


Red Jungles

by bruh_moments



Series: My Star Wars one-shot collection [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Dathomir, Gen, Nightbrother Culture (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:22:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29589945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bruh_moments/pseuds/bruh_moments
Summary: A Nightbrother tribesmen goes on a Hunt alone.
Series: My Star Wars one-shot collection [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2173803
Kudos: 3





	Red Jungles

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely LOVE the Nightbrothers and their culture, so enjoy haha

——

The crimson red forest was evident upon the planet of Dathomir. Various plant-life riddled the undergrowth; vines hung from the thick branches of the Grave Thorn tree, alongside other different species of trees that crowded the large expanse of the crimson planet. Odd, fungal-like pods erupted from the ground as well, appearing to look like black pods. Sharp thorns jutted the ground, and any hiker needed to be wary of such plant life that grew here. The flora and fauna of Dathomir was dangerous, but it also held it’s own beauty to those who respected and admired such plantes. But Dathomir wasn’t one ‘such’ planet. See, the Force that resonated from this planet was like a well-spring for the Dark Side. It was a powerful nexus, and housed one of the most elite humanoids that ever existed within the Galaxy. The Nightsisters. The Witches that sourced their use of Magicks (which they were infamous for,) generated their power from Dathomir’s Nexus, thus managed to use their Magick and Ichor. 

One such powerful Shaman was Mother Talzin--she could manipulate reality alongside doing other various Magicks; and she was the biological Mother to the princes of Dathomir, all but one managed to survive, however. The Son of Dathomir. But the Son of Dathomir was long gone.. dead, defeated by his oldest nemesis that too, had died years ago.

While of course the Nightsisters lived among the planet and secluded themselves to their Temples, tending to their Magicks, they were all but gone. (With only a few Nightsisters that managed to survive) The pure remnants of Dathomir were the Nightbrothers. They were servants and slaves of the Nightsisters, blessed with their physical strength by the Winged Goddess, and their ferocity by the Fanged God. But ever since the main clans of Nightsisters have disappeared, the Brothers took it upon themselves to either split up into smaller clans, or band together with one another to form their own territories and live among the tribe.

  
The ambience of the forest was silent for the most part. With only the occasional roar of either a Rancor or a Nydak not far off, one figure shifted through the bush like a silent shadow. A pair of light green eyes only resonated from the undergrowth, and a low, rumbling growl was emitted. Several spots of crimson light filtered through the leaves, creating several speckled areas of light. Walking into the light, the figure formed to be a horned man. His stature was well sculpted, his broad chest and muscular arms were riddled with tattoos in unique designs, earned by the Nightbrother’s Right of Passage. Nonetheless, his horns were quite large, and the Brother’s face had a prime appearance. 

His nose was sharp but at a balanced size, his jaw chiseled and strong. His tattooed brow was furrowed, as if he seemed to contemplate something. He sniffed the air. Once, twice, thrice, and his eyes then lurched towards the ground. Within his left hand, he held a simple hunter’s spear, but at the wooden tip, was riddled with wet blood and gore. Kneeling down onto the ground, the Dathomirian Zabrak’s eyes narrowed as he placed a hand onto the soil. Then he saw it. Foot prints. Hoof prints, to be more precise. 

  
Nearly fifteen minutes ago, this particular Nightbrother had recently ambushed a herd of Dathomiri Boar. The mammal was dangerous, but with a scare, they are easily terrorized. The Zabrakian managed to spike one boar, earning himself a pained squeal from the creature that fled into the forest. Bringing his fingers upwards, he knew well that he was close. He will feed his Brothers well, tonight. The soil was damp as well, and he smelled the iron tang of blood. Very close. As he will claim the boar’s life, he will enact a prayer to the Winged Goddess for allowing the fates to be in his favor. Standing back up, his sharp gaze surveyed the forestry around him for several seconds, before he stalked into the bush, like a Nexu after his prey.


End file.
